Party Summer (22 page)

“I see,” Rose said quietly.

Cari couldn't help but feel nervous, standing in this open kitchen. She felt totally vulnerable. “Are you sure Simon is out in the woods?” she asked Martin, glancing out into the dark dining room.

“Reasonably sure,” Martin replied.

“Shouldn't we go somewhere else?” Cari urged.

“There's no point in running,” Martin said ominously, his face turning grim.

“Martin, what are you saying?” Rose asked.

“In his present state,” Martin replied, “in the role of Edward, he's relentless.”

“Have you called the police?” Cari asked.

“No, he's pulled the wires again. I tried to get to the Cape, to the police or his doctor, but Simon has hidden the dinghy,” Martin said. “I've been out searching for it. That's where I've been the past few hours.”

“And?” Cari asked, knowing the answer from the grim look on Martin's face.

“I couldn't find it.”

“Find what? Is something missing?” a booming voice called out from the kitchen doorway.

Cari gasped aloud as Simon Fear burst into the room, hunting rifle in hand.

S
imon was dressed as Edward, eye patch in place, the hunting rifle in his hand, his hair standing out from his head. His white trousers and safari jacket were wrinkled and mud stained, evidence of his long hunt through the woods.

After he stepped into the room and closed the kitchen doors, he slid a bolt into place, locking them all in. His eyes moved wildly from face to face, his expression mad and menacing.

“Simon—” Rose called out, jumping to her feet, one hand against the wall for support.

“Simon is gone,” he bellowed. “Simon had no taste for the hunt.”

“Go get Simon,” Rose said firmly. “Go get Simon—now,” she ordered. “I want to talk to him.” Her voice was strong and certain, only her eyes revealed her fear.

Simon paused for a moment, glaring at her.

“Go get Simon—right now!” Rose commanded.

He stared at her a few seconds more, then turned to Martin. “What are
you
doing here?” he asked suspiciously.

“Simon—” Martin started, speaking very softly.

“I'm
Edward!”
Simon bellowed furiously.

“Go get Simon!” Rose repeated.

It was clear that Simon had decided to ignore her.

He shifted the hunting rifle to his other hand and began to raise it to his shoulder.

“No! Put it down!” Martin screamed, moving quickly from behind the counter and rushing across the room to stop Simon.

With a loud, angry cry, Simon lifted the rifle, flung his arm back, and sent the thick wooden stock crashing into the side of Martin's head.

Martin uttered a startled yelp. His eyes rolled up in his head. He slumped to the kitchen floor, his head snapping back and cracking on the hard tiles.

As Simon stared down at Martin's unmoving body, Cari and her friends lunged for the kitchen door.

“Pull the bolt! No—push it!” Jan screamed in total panic.

The bolt wouldn't budge.

I
t all happened in slow motion to Cari. She felt as if she were outside her own body, watching the scene in the kitchen from just above it.

She was just an observer, watching herself and her friends give up on the bolt that barred the door and turn back to face Simon. Watching Rose press against the wall, her hands to her cheeks, her face revealing her shock and horror.

Once Simon was certain that the four teenagers weren't about to escape, he looked down at Martin, who lay crumpled at his feet, his eyes wide open.

“That was some story you were telling them, Martin,” he said, breathing heavily, noisily, the hunting rifle gripped tightly at his side. “Some interesting story.”

He shifted his attention to Cari and her companions. “Too bad none of it was true,” he said heatedly.

He raked his hand through his wildly disheveled hair. Then his attention flitted back once again to the unconscious servant. “You shouldn't tell lies, Martin. You shouldn't tell lies during a hunting party.”

“Open the door, Edward,” Rose called from her spot against the back wall. “Open the kitchen door and let everyone out.”

“Why did you tell lies?” Simon asked Martin, ignoring Rose, giving no sign that he had even heard her.

He prodded Martin's side lightly with the toe of his boot. “Why did you tell such lies about me, Martin? I thought you were my friend.”

He gave Martin a hard kick, then forgetting him, moved quickly to the four teenagers grouped around the Kitchen door.

Cari quickly came down to earth, no longer an observer. She felt heavy now, heavy with dread, uncertain whether she could move from her spot.

“Martin has made it so easy for me,” Simon said in Edward's gruff voice, a grim smile crossing his red face.

Cari stared at the hunting rifle.

“So very easy for me,” he repeated, the smile broadening.

Cari stared at the rifle as it moved up to Simon's shoulder.

The rifle.

The rifle that he had fired at them in the woods.

And in the hotel lobby.

“My own private shooting gallery,” Simon said, very pleased.

The rifle was poised on his shoulder now.

Cari couldn't take her eyes off it.

“No—don't shoot them! Simon—Edward—don't shoot them!”

She heard Rose's terrified screams, but they seemed far away now, somewhere off in the distance.

Cari stared at the rifle until her eyes blurred.

“No—please—I beg of you! Don't shoot them!” Rose shrieked.

Simon aimed the rifle at Eric, then moved it to Craig, then back to Eric.

Staring at the barrel of the rifle, Cari stepped forward.

“Shoot me,” Cari said in a voice surprisingly calm. “Edward, shoot me first.”

S
imon hesitated for a brief second, then trained the gun on Cari.

“It's too easy,” he said with a dry, silent heave of a laugh. “It almost isn't sporting. But I gave you a chance. I gave you a head start.”

“Shoot me first,” Cari insisted. She took another step toward him.

He sighted through the rifle, then lowered it from his shoulder. His expression had become uncertain.

“Go ahead. Shoot me,” Cari said, standing her ground.

Simon stood his ground too. But he lowered the rifle a little more.

“Cari, are you crazy?” Eric cried. He rushed forward and tried to pull her back.

She pulled out of Eric's grasp and stepped forward,
her eyes on the rifle. “Give me the rifle, Simon,” she said softly, reaching out for it.

“I'm not Simon. I'm Edward,” he said flatly, without any emotion.

“Give me the rifle,” Cari repeated, her hand still outstretched.

Simon stared back at her blankly.

“The rifle,” she said softly but firmly.

His face furrowed in confusion. He lifted the rifle back onto his shoulder.

“The rifle,” Cari insisted.

“Cari—stop! He's going to shoot!” Eric screamed.

“Okay, then,” Cari said, staring straight ahead. “Go ahead. Shoot me. Shoot me first.”

Simon aimed at her chest and fired twice.

Everyone screamed at once. But their screams weren't loud enough to drown out the deadly roar of rifle fire.

“S
imon, give me the rifle,” Cari said, sounding only a little shaken.

Simon's eyes popped wide in disbelief, and he nearly dropped the smoking rifle.

“Cari—” Eric screamed.

“The rifle, Simon. Hand it to me,” Cari insisted.

His expression still stunned, Simon raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired it at Cari again.

Again, everyone screamed.

Cari didn't move her position.

“You—you're a ghost!” Simon screamed, backing away. “You're a ghost!”

He took another step back. White smoke from the rifle curled up to the ceiling. Behind him, Rose had slumped weakly onto the bench behind the table.

“The rifle,” Cari insisted.

“No!” Simon cried. “If you're a ghost, then I'll have to shoot one of the others.”

He took one more step back, raised the rifle to his shoulder, and pointed it at Craig.

“No, Edward! No more shooting!” a woman's voice cried.

At first, Cari thought it was Rose. But Rose was sitting half-dazed behind Simon, her head in her hands.

“I'll shoot if I want to!” Simon yelled in Edward's rough voice. “You keep out of this, Greta! This is my hunting party!”

“The hunting party is over, Edward,” the woman insisted.

And Cari suddenly realized that the woman's voice was coming from Simon.

“Put down the rifle, Edward,” Simon said in the woman's voice. “The party is over.”

“No, Greta!” Simon yelled back in Edward's gruff voice. “Don't tell me what to do. I got rid of Simon, and I can get rid of you!”

“Edward, you're making me very impatient,” the woman's voice replied.

It was the woman they had heard in Simon's room, Cari realized.

So there
was
no mystery woman in the hotel. The woman they had heard was another of Simon's personalities—Greta, Simon's dead wife.

When they'd heard that argument in Simon's room between Simon, Edward, and the mystery woman—
all three voices had been Simon's!

“Get out of here! Get away from me!” Edward screamed.

“Not until you call the hunting party to an end,” he replied in the woman's voice.

As he continued to argue with himself, three voices taking angry turns, Cari found herself staring once again at the rifle.